


Kill You With a Kiss

by makos_lightningrod



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:39:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1553984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makos_lightningrod/pseuds/makos_lightningrod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knew she could never be the Catwoman to his Batman (Or Lydia decides to try roleplaying).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kill You With a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> For Stydia Week 2014, Day 7
> 
> Previously posted on lydiasgotstiles.tumblr.com

She didn’t plan to do this. She had been downtown doing some shopping therapy after her final exams and landed inside the risque boutique.

It wasn’t that she had a problem with her sex life. No. For the experience that she had over the years, Stiles had more imagination in the bedroom than any of her past ex-boyfriends could muster in their short aptitudes. No, Stiles was, dare she say - fabulous when it came to what happen under the sheets. Or on top of them if he was feeling okay with not having the covers atop of him right after.

She thought maybe something like stockings would spice things up. He’d been so sweet lately - sacrificing date nights with her so she could study. Lydia Martin was a genius, but even she needed to put in a few hours of her nose in her books.

It was the sign in the window that caught her eye. She liked to pretend she still didn’t know anything about the geek world, but long exposure to Stiles Stilinski makes that hard. She has seen every superhero movie that’s come out, and unlike Scott, she’s sat through all the Star Wars. 

That’s why she knows the costume store is trying to capitalize on the Batman craze sweeping the nation due to the newest movie coming out with a sexy Catwoman black suit in the window, and that’s why she suddenly has a brilliant idea.

She pursues the store’s offerings with pursed lips, having already decided that Catwoman was out. Black washed her out, and if she was doing this sort of thing, she was going to make sure she looked good.

Not that Lydia Martin ever looked bad.

 

They don’t live together yet, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a key to his apartment. He badgers her about moving in together, but she needs her space when she’s in school. She promises him that they day after she graduates, they can move in together and she can decide what bedsheets they’ll put on the bed.

So she lets herself in and notices that it’s somewhat messy - not that she expects any less. She knows how busy he is and he tries hard, bless his heart. But she knows that when they get married one day, she’ll be the one yelling at him to pick up after himself.

Making her way down the small hall, she goes into his bedroom and is surprised to find that quite clean. She goes over to the bed and drops her shopping bag before looking at the picture on the nightstand. She rolls her eyes every time she comes over because she knows that the portrait of her on the tabletop is what he says good morning and goodnight to before he texts her right after with the same sentiments.

It’s adorable and embarrassing and totally a Stiles thing to do, and that’s why she doesn’t tease him as much as she could about it, or even mention it to Scott to have someone do the teasing for her. She’s lucky. She knows that because she has a guy that loves her whole-heartedly, and he never asks for anything in return.

He crept into her heart before she could bar it against him, and now he lives in there permanently.

That’s why she’s pulling the costume out of one of her bags, tucking the others under his desk out of the way. She never does things half-way, so she opens up his computer to do a little research to make sure she makes everything perfect. It’s the little things that matter, and she knows they’ll go a long way with her boyfriend.

 

He comes back an hour later and wants to fall on the sofa and watch Star Wars, but he knows he needs to do the laundry since he’s down to his last three pairs of boxers. So he drops his backpack onto the floor and goes into his bedroom to start picking up his clothes.

It’s then that he notices that something is off. He looks around for a moment and then spots the shopping bags under his desk. Instantly, he knows that she’s there. “Lydia?” He hears a noise and turns toward the bathroom door.

“Stiles, is that you?” Her familiar voice reverberates through the door and he suddenly feels happier. He grins to himself and sits down on his bed.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see you. Do you want me to leave?” She’s still in the bathroom, and he shifts back to lay against his pillows, wondering if she’s having some sort of fashion emergency that means she can’t come out and let him see her.

He still thinks it’s silly that she doesn’t believe him when he tells her that even without all her makeup, she’s beautiful, and he’d rather see her in his old lacrosse hoodie instead of high heels. He knows that fashion and her looks are important to her, and he’ll never say another word against either since the time she almost eviscerated him because he had suggested she get some comfortable shoes because running from supernatural creatures in three inch heels just wasn’t practical.

“No, no, never, don’t leave. Stay. Forever. I told you you should move in. I like seeing you in the morning and going to sleep with you every night.”

Plus then he wouldn’t need the poor replacement of her picture on his nightstand. Plus good mornings were always better delivered with a kiss instead of the bleep of a text message.

“I thought we already had this discussion seven times,” she retorts precisely and he grins. He will ask her up until she moves in and he knows that she’s caving in. He gives her three months until he’s carrying all her things into his apartment. Or…well, when he’s carrying all his things into her apartment because he knows that she doesn’t like being so uprooted like that. “Anyway, I just got a new blouse and I don’t know if I like it or not,” she changes the subject. “Tell me what you think.”

“Fine.” He pulls himself up against the wall and sighs. She does this every time she goes shopping. There’s always one thing that bothers her and it isn’t until he says it looks good that she’s content and keeps it. So he’s prepared to tell her the same thing that he tells her every time. That she’s beautiful.

Then the door opens and he feels his heart stop.

She’s standing there framed in the doorway, and his mind can’t seem to process the sight. He had never thought that anything Lydia Martin could do would make him love her more, but he’s realizing that she still has surprises up her sleeve, and this-this one is fucking fantastic.

His eyes skim down from the leaves nestled in her red curls to the green corset cinching and displaying a rather impressive amount of cleavage. Her pale skin is framed with deep green leaves, and he licks his lips as he takes a step nearer to her. 

“You-I-what?”

For once in his life, Stiles Stilinski is speechless.

He stares at her and is sure that all the blood in his body is traveling down into the center of his body. “Lydia…” It’s all he can do from throwing himself across the bed and….sndfkjsdnfsdfds. He can’t even think of what he might do because all he can see is his fucking fantastic girlfriend standing there looking so sexy.

And usually, he never calls her this, but she looks absolutely hot. Hot is a word that he rarely uses because he knows she’s been called that enough in her life, but he thinks that this one time is an exception.

She smiles at him and tilts her head to the side, exposing her bare shoulder to him. He takes a deep breath and edges himself down to the foot of the bed until he’s only a foot away from her. “Wow…Wh-What’s the occasion?” It isn’t like she needs to dress up for him. He knows that she can turn him on even if she’s wearing a paper bag over her head and wearing burlap.

“I just thought I’d surprise you,” she murmurs innocently, finally taking a step toward him. He takes the opportunity to give her a once over and groans softly when he sees the black stockings covering her pale thighs and the black heels that she has to match. He knows that he is in another dimension. “What do you say, Batman?” She teases, laying her hand on his shoulder.

At her touch, his cock finally tells his brain that he should definitely touch this beautiful work of art in front of him, and his fingers curl around her waist to pull her closer. “I say…I say…” He hasn’t felt so horny since he was fifteen years old and learned about porn, but damn, Lydia Martin dressed up like Poison Ivy was just too much of a fantasy that he was sure would never come true.

“Lydia, you’ve outdone anything I could have ever thought up and I am just-” His fingers ran down the curve of her hip. “I’m your Batman?”

Her laugh is low and husky, and his eyes snap up to meet her green ones, a small smile crossing his lips as he realizes she is thoroughly enjoying the torture she’s put him through for her surprise. “Of course you’re my Batman. Hmm…are you going to…bring me to justice?”

“Is that even a real question?” He asks before he stands up and runs his hands up the back of her thighs. He groans when he feel the curve of her rear and lifts her up, surprising the two of them at how well-coordinated his movements are before he has her against the wall. His mouth crashes against hers, smudging the lip gloss she’s put on to make her lips look even more kissable.

She responds just as eagerly and wraps her arms around his neck. Their kisses are always heated when they’re in the bedroom, but she has no idea that he is so impressed until she feels him against her thigh. A smile curves on her lips and she takes a deep breath when they part for air. “I take it you like it then?” She asks and doesn’t expect an answer as he moves her from the wall and gently lays her down on his bed. Even though she expects him to throw her down and jump on her, he never ceases to make her smile even more when he treats her so well.

“I don’t think Batman treated Poison Ivy with kidd gloves, Stiles,” she teases as she grabs the front of his shirt to pull his lean body down on top of hers. She loves the way he’s always caring and sweet, the way he makes sure she’s always pleasured each time they end up in bed, but she knows that he’s horny. She wants him to show her just how much.

So, she wrestles with him, rolling him over and grabbing his hands, locking them down against the soft bed even though he could easily overpower her. She makes sure to grind down against his hips, feeling the stiff hardness of him with the movement.

“Fuck, Lydia,” he gasps out, and she can’t help but smirk, her mouth dropping down to plunder his, and she nips his bottom lip as she pulls back.

“Losing the battle, Batman.”

But it’s obvious that he doesn’t want to win the battle if it means that he has the most amazing view of Lydia Martin. His hands move up the sliver of flesh exposed from her stockings and he bites his lip when he feels the ruffles from the panties she’s wearing. His fingers tease just inside of the edges and he immediately leans up to seal her mouth in a searing kiss.

Lydia Martin always likes to be in control. It’s hard to say when he’s ever properly been in control of the moment, but neither of them have complaints. She reaches between them to reach for the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head to reveal the underrated muscles he has hiding beneath his oversized clothes. She knows he likes to be comfortable and thinks he’s absolutely adorable in them, but she likes to be the only one to know what’s hiding underneath. Her nails skim the faint lines of his abdomen and she smiles when she feels it tense beneath her touch.

“Lydia….” He moans softly and runs his hands up her back, feeling the hard ridges of her corset and the smooth satin of the laces binding her tightly. He wonders if he can imitate those shows or movies where the man just rips the corset off of the woman, but he decides against embarrassing himself because he knows she wouldn’t appreciate him ruining an outfit that he wants to see her in again.

Plus, he’s not sure if he can get the corset off her the normal way, let alone have the strength it takes to rip through the ribbons tying her up. And her mouth is against his ear, her breathing ragged so he knows that she isn’t unaffected by this, by him and them together, and that’s always the thing that gets him.

That he, Stiles Stilinski, can affect Lydia Martin in this way.

“It’s too bad Batman doesn’t use handcuffs,” she says before she feels his hands ripping through the fabric of her tights when he hears the words. Because it isn’t just the kinkiness of being able to wrap those steel cuffs around her slim wrists, having her at his mercy, but the fact that she trusts him enough to give up that control.

Her eyes widen when she hears her stockings tear into pieces. She watches as they fall away from her legs and she hastily pushes them onto the floor, leaving her legs completely bare to him, which is just how he likes it. He reaches down and runs his hand down her calf, closing his eyes when he feels the smooth skin. He has never seen Lydia Martin with a hair on her body and he wonders if it’s genetic or if she had laser removal. Either way, it makes her shiver and when he feels the goosebumps, he knows he’s done his job.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do,” she whispers against his ear, biting down on the lobe with a bit of punishment. It only becomes worse when he feels her hips move against his. He exhales slowly and strokes her thighs once more.

"For the love of Gotham, can you please get undressed?" He asks in a strained tone but he knows she probably won’t appease him.

She just picks her upper body off his, smiling down at him as she rolled her hips. “I thought you were going to do that honor.” She twists off his body, landing beside him on the bed before she sweeps her hair off her back and lets it cascade down on shoulder in a red waterfall.

Stiles pushes himself up on one arm, staring at the lacework and the little glimpses of pale skin peeking out of the bottom of her corset. “You’re trying to kill me,” he mumbles before he peppers kisses along the back of her neck, making her shiver.

He does what she wants, though, picking at the laces with clumsy and inept fingers, hoping that he doesn’t just tighten the strings and make it so he never gets to the treasure underneath. 

Her heart races and she wonders if that feeling will ever go away. She licks her lips and closes her eyes when his lips make their way down her shoulders and she feels soft kisses against the freckles she knows she has on her back. Every now and again he will count the freckles there, making sure the number is still the same and some of those times she’ll express her frustration that he’s taking too long. And then there are times like this that she adores him and his habits.

Her corset finally comes loose and she pulls it away from her torso, dropping it onto the floor. She turns over and he watches the tendrils of hair fall into her face. She smiles at him and he exhales, feeling his chest tighten. He leans in and gives her a slow kiss. “You are absolutely beautiful…so fucking beautiful…”

When he pulls back, he glances down at her body and groans, biting his lip. “Holy Batman.”

Lydia can’t help but laugh at his choice of words, and she wastes no time in taking his hands, sliding them up her skin and pressing them up to cup her breasts. “Stop talking, Stiles, and just punish me for being a bad, bad girl.” She can’t keep a straight face after she says it, but it doesn’t matter because his mouth is against hers in the next second and he was pressing her down into the bed.

Even though he has his habits in bed, she knows that each time is always different. Sometimes he gets obsessed with the feel of her skin, touching the pull of muscles behind her knees or the curve of the inside of her elbow. Other times he focuses his attention on the hard peaks on her breasts, his mouth and fingers magic as they touch and tug her to her high.

Today he can’t seem to focus, his attention wavers from dipping inside the waistband of her panties to his tongue curling around her nipple. “Stiles, take off your fucking clothes.” She’s frustrated and aroused, and she just needs to feel him.

He immediately reaches down and pulls at the waistband of his jeans, pulling down his legs and kicking them off. He also feels quite unsexy because he’s still wearing socks so he reaches down to pull those off as well. Lydia watches with amusement and just kisses his brow in the middle of it.

Her hand moves down to smooth over the front of his boxers, feeling the familiar hardness through the fabric. She sighs and presses her nose against his, smirking. “Someone is really ready to burst out, huh?” She kisses down his jaw and licks her lips as she dips her fingers into the waistband and pulls them down his legs, setting him free.

He lets out a breath of relief and lays his head. “Lydia, damnit.” But his relief is short-lived as her palm wraps around him, and he hisses through his teeth- “Fuck.”

Laughter was never a part of her sexual experiences in the past, and it feels like a weight is lifted off her shoulders. Because she’s always sexy and beautiful, but she doesn’t feel the need to hold back her moans with Stiles. He has no filter, so she feels like she doesn’t need one either.

“Yes, fuck,” she agrees as she lets him go long enough to drag her underwear down her thighs, dropping it off the side of the bed and then laying back so he could appreciate the view. “Fuck me, Stiles.”

And it’s slightly thrilling to say such crude words to him, too, because he likes to whisper that it’s making love, always making love, but sometimes she wants it rough and that’s the way she gets it.

He looks over at her and his eyes trail down the length of her body. It’s so supple and pale and perfect and he knows that there are imperfections, but he loves those things about her. And he knows that until his last days, he will love them as much as he loves her.

But he can’t let her get away with turning his world upside down. No. He has to do the same to her, and he knows how to do it.

His fingers run up her thighs and he grips them before tugging her lower on the bed. She’s caught off guard and gasps in surprise. He doesn’t let her gain any semblance of calmness before he leans down and lets out a warm breath against the folds between her legs.

"Stiles…" Her voice is warning him and he doesn’t know if he’s going to take the bait.

For all his incoordination any moment he’s awake and breathing, Lydia is always amazed at how that seems to melt away in the bedroom. One moment he’s between her legs and the next he’s sliding into her with this little grunt that makes her tighten her legs around his waist.

“Oh…” He smirks down at her, and her eyes widen before she’s digging her nails into the skin on his lower back, letting him know that he can’t just tease her like that, filling her so fully and then leaving her wanting.

“Stiles, Stiles Stilinski if you’re trying to make me beg it will not work,” her voice is firm, but wavers slightly when he moves, minimally, totally not enough to do anything to squelch the fire rising inside her.

"That’s what you get when you dress up as Batman’s arch enemy," he whispers before dipping his head to brush a kiss to her lips. "You didn’t think I was going to give in so easily when you saw me nearly come at the sight of you, did you?" He murmurs, running his fingers through her hair and pushing it away from her face. He smiles and kisses her slowly.

She gives a soft moan and smacks his shoulder, her attempts futile. She licks her lips and reaches up, running her lips down his chest and nipping at the skin, knowing how much her nibbling drives him wild.

And it does drive him wild.

The bed frame creaks as he starts to thrust, and she keens with pleasure and triumph. Lydia Martin loves winning, and in bed with Stiles, she’s always a winner no matter what.

Their kisses are frantic, and she keeps tasting lipstick, but it doesn’t matter because his long fingers are between their bodies, and they know the perfect way to thumb her clit so that she comes undone.

But she doesn’t want that just yet, so she shoves at his chest so that his weight is gone, flopping onto the side of the bed. He’s panting and sweaty, and he looks so lost and confused, but she quickly remedies the situation as her thighs bracket him against the bed, her body sinking down against his so that he can fill her once more.

He gives a rare, but welcomed growl that sends a shiver down to her toes. She exhales slowly and relaxes her body, knowing the tricks to make her man go crazy. Not that he isn’t already. He’s shuddering beneath her and he immediately tries to get his hand between their bodies to touch her, but she takes his hand and presses it against the pillow beneath his head.

Her hips give a slow rock against his and she leans down to kiss him slowly, lazily almost as if she’s making him expect this to last for hours. But that isn’t part of the plan. She likes to play with him just a bit until the big moment.

But Lydia Martin doesn’t want to play right now. They can do that in a few hours.

So she begins to move atop of him, her movements sure and confident, giving him a view to die for. She’s doing all the work, letting him lay back and just enjoy the fact that for once, he isn’t doing most of the work.

“I love you, god, fuck, I love you so much,” he’s babbling, and she braces her hands on his hard chest so that she can kiss the words rolling off his tongue, taste the love he proclaims. She loves the way he always does this, proclaims and pants out his love like she might forget.  
 She never does. Never will. It’s written deep into her bones and flows through her veins now. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of them to fall over the edge. Of course, he goes first and it’s the most agonizing and pleasurable thing he’s ever felt. He’s sure that this tops every time that they’ve ever had sex, but he always thinks that every time because he’s that sentimental. At least that’s what she says.

She always takes a bit longer and needs a little nudge before she’s throwing her head back and her body is shuddering. So he does the honor of giving her the right nudge between her thighs before she looks completely uninhibited and seeing stars. He grips her thighs, keeping them in place in case she falls off (which has actually happened on two occasions).

 

After, she pillows her head against his chest, still breathing harder than usual as she blinks. “Holy Batman,” she moves her head enough so that she can see him, a slow smile crossing her lips.

“You know, there was another costume I really liked…from Star Wars.”

She lets that sink in, knowing that he knew exactly what she was talking about, and Lydia is certain that if it hadn’t been so soon after their little romp, he’d be standing to attention soon enough.

“Slave Lydia, huh? I’ll have to steal some handcuffs.”


End file.
